A Threat from Within
by Avian Library
Summary: Reese and Finch have a new number and someone is under the weather. How will they solve the mystery of the number without either enemies or friends? This is the first time I've shared an attempt at fanfic outside a circle of three. Your suggestions and feedback will be appreciated.
1. Sleeping Late

Reese opened one eye. Something didn't feel right. He opened the other eye and methodically surveyed his apartment. It was cloudy again, but it still seemed a bit brighter than usual for 6 AM. He slowly stretched his 6'2" frame then looked at the clock. 8 AM.

"What the hell? I haven't slept this late since…" he had to think about that for a moment… _since Carter walked me into CIA sniper cross-hairs…_ he thought while rubbing the scar on his left side.

_Move it, Mister! _Reese had come to rely on his inner drill sergeant, but today he wished he'd shut up. Reluctantly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned. He hurt all over and felt like he could've slept for another 3-4 hours.

"Those guys must've landed more punches last night than I thought," he muttered.

He turned on the water for his shower and made it as hot as he could stand it. He stood there letting the hot water caress his aching body. He couldn't be sure, but it was so soothing he thought he actually fell asleep for a moment. He suddenly started coughing so he lathered up and rinsed off quickly. He stepped out of the shower, quickly toweled off, secured the towel around his waist and headed to his dressing room. It was actually just his closet, but it was so much larger than anything he'd had before, he considered it a room of its own. He returned to the bathroom to shave and, with the steam gone from the mirror, assess the damage from the previous night's smack down. There were only a few minor bruises and scratches. While pondering why he felt like he'd been hit by a bus, he finished his morning routine. By the time he'd pulled on his second boot, he was less concerned with how he felt because he was confident that his opponents felt like they'd been hit by a train.

Reese sauntered into the library a few hours later than usual and braced himself for a snarky comment or two about his tardiness. He then realized he was going to get quite an earful, because, not only was he late, he was without pastries.

"Yoga class run long today, Mr. Reese?" Finch asked without looking away from his monitors.

"Yes," Reese replied, sounding much gruffer than usual.

"Mr. Reese, you sound terrible," Finch said as he swiveled to face him. His eyes grew wide as he studied Reese head to toe. His shirt was slightly rumpled and his hair was sticking out in more directions than usual; but, most frightening of all, he looked as pale as a corpse. "You don't look so hot either," he uttered to himself - or so he thought.

"Didn't sleep much," was Reese's brusque reply. "Tell me about our new number." He said it quickly in hopes of moving the conversation to the task at hand and away from any thought of missing pastries.

Finch rose from his chair, walked over to the board, taped the picture of an unattractive and overweight woman to it, and gave Reese the 411 on their latest number.

"Rachel Ezhno is a contract underwriter for a large mortgage company. No family – at least none that I've been able to find yet. Since the housing market crashed 4 years ago, she's been doing contract jobs, er contract work assignments, all over the country." Finch knew he didn't need to correct himself when describing her employment situation, but given Reese's former line of work, he did it anyway.

"She works regular banking hours so you still have plenty of time to search her place, plant our surveillance, and maybe take a nap before she leaves work."

Reese, annoyed by the suggestion he take a nap, started to ask why he would need to plant surveillance, but his question seemed to catch in his throat, causing him to cough. Finch, in full mind-reader mode, began explaining the upgrades currently being made to her building that were leaving it without security cameras or alarms for the next couple of weeks.

"You'll need to get cameras into the two elevators and throughout the hallways. Once in her apartment, you may chose the location of the additional surveillance. I should have more information on our new number by the time you finish."

"I do know how to set up surveillance, Finch," Reese said as he spun on his heel and headed to the elevator. He was nearly there when Finch called out to him.

"Mr. Reese, where are the pastries?"

"I'll pick them up after my nap, Finch," Reese growled through clinched teeth.


	2. Surveillance

Reese had hoped to see sunlight when he exited the library, but it just wasn't in the forecast. NYC had been more like Seattle for the last two weeks and that was just fine for the Puyallup-raised Reese – until today. As he headed towards the new number's apartment, his thoughts started to drift towards his youth, but he quickly shook off the sentimentality. He let out a great sigh that turned into a coughing fit.

_What is wrong with me? _he thought.

"You need some cough drops, Mr. Reese," Finch announced through the earpiece, snapping Reese back to the present. Bear barked in agreement.

_Great! Even Bear is against me today. _Reese shook his head and looked up from his feet to get his bearings. Clearly it wasn't his day. He didn't even remember establishing the connection with Finch **and** he was heading the wrong direction.

Normally Reese loved walking through New York City. Even though the streets were crowded and cameras eyed his every move, he felt freer there than anywhere else these days. But today wasn't a normal day. His body still ached, plus he was damp. He was coughing more as the day dragged on and it wasn't even noon. He was wet from the intermittent rain and starting to feel a chill. He decided to take the subway the rest of the way.

It didn't take long for him to set the cameras in the elevators and the hallways on Rachel's floor, but while setting up the last hallway camera, he ran into a minor snag. He heard a door open, turned to see who it was, and smiled at the little old lady who'd peeked out to see if all was assumed his charming smile had convinced her it was. Then he heard a hideous howl and ferocious barking and saw a blur of brown running towards him. He winced as the creature clamped down. Reese looked down at his leg to see a Shih Tzu maintaining a tight grip on his pant leg.

"Thank God Finch isn't seeing this!" Reese muttered, as he started shaking his leg to remove Princess Pookie… at least he thought that was the name the old lady shouted.

The little dog had quite a hold on his pants and couldn't be shaken loose. The little old lady started to tip over when she reached down to extract her dog, so Reese kicked up his leg to get Princess Pookie within her grasp. The old lady scooped up her precious pet, squealed sweet nothings into her ears, then whacked Reese on the shin with her cane. After a brief tirade about young people not respecting anything anymore, she returned to her apartment leaving Reese flustered and, frankly, embarrassed.

Meanwhile, back at the library, Bear was acting strangely. He was pacing and whining in a very high pitch as if highly agitated or worried. After what seemed like an eternity to Bear, Finch told him everything was fine. Bear wasn't convinced because Finch was still shaking. Finally, Finch removed his glasses, wiped away his tears, turned to Bear and said, "I'm alright, Bear. I just haven't laughed that hard in years!"

Reese was relieved when he entered Rachel's apartment and found it empty – not even a goldfish in sight.

Reese completed his recon on her place in less than 30 minutes and that was 2 full sweeps. She had a basic laptop that gladly gave up all its files, a small flat-screen TV, DVD player, and an iPhone speaker doc. He was surprised to find syringes in a kitchen drawer. _If she'd ever been arrested for drug possession Finch should've found it by now._ A quick look in her refrigerator solved the mystery. He slowly rotated the vials and discovered they were insulin. He wasn't surprised considering how overweight she appeared in the picture and the amount of processed food in her cupboard. She must've known how to cook he reasoned because she had a set of cookware.

After completing the sweeps, Reese found himself wheezing and coughing badly enough that he decided to sit on the couch for a moment to catch his breath. An hour or so later his ringing phone startled him.

"Mr. Reese, there is a problem with the feed from inside Ms. Ezhno's apartment. I'm not getting any signal there. I have perfect feeds from the hallway and elevators cameras you..."

"I haven't planted any of the apartment cameras yet, Finch," Reese interjected. "Check again in 30 minutes and you'll have the rest of the feeds," Reese added while stifling a yawn.

Finch wanted to press for more details because he knew Reese should've finished already, but the tone of Reese's voice made it clear there would be no explanation given.

Before leaving her apartment, Reese checked in with Finch to make sure the surveillance was working properly. He had several errands to run, so by the time he took up his perch in a small park across the street from Rachel's office building, Finch had completed his analysis of her computer files.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Reese. How are you feeling?" Finch chirped.

_Sometimes that man is just too… too… __perky _Reese mused. "Finch, you sound positively… dry…" Reese coughed and wheezed for a moment, "…and warm. What have you found out about our new number?"

"Well," Finch started hesitantly, "She's diabetic."

"Finch, **I **told you that before I left her apartment," Reese growled. "Do you have anything new to share?" Reese asked impatiently between coughs.

"I'm afraid Ms. Ezhno is still a bit of a mystery to us, Mr. Reese," Finch said sheepishly. He slouched slightly and turned his gaze from his monitors as if to avoid being judged for failing to find anything useful.

"A bit?" Reese chided.

"Mr. Reese, she goes to and from work and stops at the grocery when needed. She eats at a diner once a week – and usually it's the same selection. Her social media circle is very small – either people she worked with or went to school with – and there are only 10 of them. They are scattered all over the U.S. and **none** are in NYC!" By the time Finch finished, his voice had reached a fevered pitch.

They sat motionless in their respective perches. No new ideas popped into their minds. They had absolutely nothing useful and they both knew it.

Suddenly, Finch jumped up, grabbed his coat, and announced to Reese and Bear that he was heading out for a bit. He needed to get eyes on Rachel in her office since nothing in her personal life seemed to be the source of the threat. From his car in the parking garage, it only took him a few minutes to orchestrate a full crash of her system and ensure her frantic call to IT would be routed to him. With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he gave her the standard IT mantra, "Let's try a reboot." After the reboot failed, he advised her that he would need to check out her system personally. When he arrived at her office she was staring at her two blank screens as if trying to will them to display something. He grinned and entered her office.

"Hello, Ms. Ezhno, I'm Dave. I'm here to fix your computer," Finch beamed.

"Thank goodness. Do I have enough time to grab a quick lunch while you're working?"

"It'll take me at least 20 minutes to get it back up and confirm the memory..."

"Great! See you in 20 minutes!" she said as she ran out the door.

_Amazing how quickly people run away when they think you are going to try to explain how you plan to fix their computer problems, _Finch thought.

He planted a camera in one of the stuffed animals on her desk and strategically placed a microphone. Then plugged in his USB drive, hit a few keys, and the computer whirred to life. Finch headed out of her office well ahead of schedule and returned to his perch at the library after stopping for some Indian food. He needed lunch today since he didn't have breakfast.

He accessed the newly planted surveillance to make sure he had a proper view and good sound quality.

"Can you believe the nerve of that IT guy?" Rachel said to a co-worker. "Let's try a reboot," she said mockingly. "Like I hadn't already tried that once! Amazing that these guys get paid the big bucks to come up with suggestions like that," she seethed. Finch, who had been staring into a void during her tirade, was suddenly glad he hadn't called to speak with Reese while checking the surveillance quality. He was sure Reese would've gotten a chuckle out of Ms. Ezhno's review of his IT persona, but that would've undoubtedly led to another of Reese's worsening coughing fits.

A wave of people filed out of the building at 5:00 PM, but Reese didn't see Rachel. By 5:30 PM, he was wondering if he'd missed her somehow. Considering the sea of umbrellas, it was possible, but Finch assured him she was still working at her desk.

"Are you sure she's still in there?" Reese asked before breaking into another coughing fit.

"Yes, Mr. Reese. I placed surveillance in her office today. She's still sitting at her desk," Finch replied. Finch was a little surprised that Reese hasn't seen him enter or leave the building and worried that his illness might be affecting him more than either of them were willing to admit.

When Rachel finally left the office at 7:00 PM, Reese followed closely behind, cloned her phone, and then took up his new perch on the rooftop across the street from her apartment. He was breathless, wheezing, and coughing fiercely, but managed to find a decent spot to hunker down. The spot gave him some shelter from the wind and rain and a chance to dry off just a little. He felt like he could sleep for a week, and much to his surprise, he was hungry. His mouth watered when Rachel plopped down on the couch with her dinner. A couple hours later, he perked up when she jumped at a knock on her door, but it was just a pizza guy who had gotten the wrong apartment. He imagined chasing down the pizza guy for a slice or two, but his daydream was interrupted by another coughing spell. He turned up his collar and shoved his hands into his pockets. He really wanted to take a deep breath and try to think about something besides pizza, but he knew a deep breath would send him into yet another coughing fit, and they were growing increasingly painful.

At midnight, Finch decided he'd had enough. Reese's coughing and wheezing were disruptive. Plus, he was growing more and more concerned for his friend.

"Mr. Reese, why don't you get some rest. I can watch and listen from here and alert you should a situation arise."

"Finch, are you suggesting I take the night off?" Reese said in an amused quizzical tone.

"Not exactly, Mr. Reese. I'm suggesting you get out of the rain and into the backseat of the car for a little rest. Knowing you, you'll only sleep for a couple hours, but that's time you'll be out of the rain." _And time I won't be hearing you cough._

"I would've chosen a different spot – an INSIDE spot – to wait for her to leave the office had I known your definition of "regular banking hours," Reese huffed.

"My apologies, Mr. Reese. One tends to lose all perspective on time and normalcy in our line of work."

Reese sighed heavily, "Good night, Finch." He headed down to his car coughing, wheezing, and wincing from the pain in his chest. Relieved to get out of the rain for a couple hours, he curled up with the emergency blanket from the trunk and drifted off to sleep.


	3. Library Huddle

"Alright. Alright! I'm up!" Rachel cried out to an empty apartment. _Nothing like the Phantom Overture to startle one awake in the morning, _she mused. The crash of thunder that punctuated the end of the alarm added to the dramatic flair. _Another day of rain. Beautiful._

She scurried around getting ready for work like she did every morning. She paused to take in the image staring back at her in the mirror. She reached for her makeup but decided not to bother with it. _It's your last day, girlfriend. Don't waste time on a lost cause._

"Mr. Reese," Finch prodded softly. "Oh Mr. Ree-eese…"

Reese swatted at his face trying to get the bug to leave him alone. _What an annoying little…_

"Mr. Reese!" Finch used his full voice this time.

"Finch? What the…?"

"Good morning Mr. Reese. Miss Ezhno is about to leave for work. I trust you got some rest?"

"Apparently I did, Finch. Why didn't you wake me earlier?" Reese asked while stretching as much as he could in the backseat - still coughing and wheezing. The cough was deeper than it had been yesterday, and his body still felt stiff and achy.

"Your snoring was less annoying than your coughing," Finch deadpanned.

Reese glanced around the interior of the car. "Finch, you sound much, um, BIGGER than usual, and I didn't answer the phone, so how are we…"

"Oh! A nifty little device I had installed in all my cars that I can activate remotely. It comes in handy when your partner decides to run off to do something rash and refuses to answer his phone." Finch explained while also scolding.

"The next thing you'll do is install one in my coat collar," Reese muttered as he continued to stretch.

There's a rather long period of silence and Reese stops mid-stretch.

"Finch, you haven't…"

"No. No. Mr. Reese I wouldn't do something like." Finch squirmed just a bit. _Especially since you always wear your collar turned up and its weight made the collar fall down_.

"Uh huh," Reese responded, not really sure what to think about that response.

The only thing (besides his increasingly painful coughing) that happened while he followed Rachel to work was her getting splashed by a taxi when she got too close to the curb. Her complaining about her squishy shoes reminded him of the time Finch entered the library looking like a drowned rat after Reese had pulled a fire alarm to rescue him. He smiled at the memory of how hard it was not to laugh at the sight and was relieved that Finch had no idea what had happened with the Shih Tzu.

Once Rachel was ensconced at work, Finch could watch her until quitting time. Reese decided to go to the library to powwow with his partner. He hoped to discover something Finch missed. He knew it was a long-shot, but he was running out of options and Rachel was running out of time.

When Reese entered the library, it was hard to tell who was more excited to see him – Finch or Bear. Reese allowed himself a half-grin. He was really starting to feel connected to the world again and it was due in no small part to these two.

"Ah, Mr. Reese, you brought pastries!" Finch practically sang with excitement.

Reese stopped in his tracks. His half-grin disappeared and he hung his head. He had forgotten breakfast two days running.

"No croquillants?" Finch sounded like a child who opened his last Christmas present and found underwear instead of an iPad. He turned away and slowly headed to another room in the library.

"I'm sorry, Finch," Reese said as he pulled a super-sized bag of cough drops out of the bag he had.

After popping a cough drop, Reese knelt down to greet Bear and braced himself for some roughhousing; but, Bear was content to be vigorously petted. Reese reached into the bag again and this time pulled out a new toy for his four-legged friend.

While Reese struggled to remove the tag and Bear inched closer to a frenzy, he hadn't noticed that Finch was now practically standing over him bearing a box of donuts (without sprinkles).

"I didn't know if you would come to the library today, so I picked up donuts this morning. Not the best selection…" his voice trailed off for a moment. "That isn't a squeaky toy is it, Mr. Reese?"

"Relax Finch. I remember that Bear plus squeaky toy equals a 'grievous error.'"

Reese finally got the tag off, gave the toy to Bear, stood up to take his donut prize, and couldn't even take one bite thanks to another prolonged coughing spell.

"Mr. Reese, you need to see a doctor. You are paler than you were yesterday, your cough is much worse and you look like you're going to fall over any minute now."

Reese started to object to his friend's observations, but he suddenly felt like he was falling over. Finch immediately grabbed his right arm to steady him.

"Mr. Reese, I believe your refusal to eat while on a stakeout has finally caught up with you. Let's get you something a little more substantial than cough drops and a donut," he fussed while guiding Reese over to a chair. He scurried off to the kitchenette to rustle up something healthy. He returned a minute later offering hot decaf green tea with honey which Reese accepted. He went back into the kitchenette and returned with a ham and cheese Hot Pocket®. He was looking more at the floor than he was at Reese when he presented it. "Well, it isn't healthy, but at least it's more filling than a donut. There's one more if you want it." Finch made a mental note to get to the market **very** soon.

Between coughing spells, Reese devoured the Hot Pocket®, but declined the second. He was exhausted despite having slept more than usual the night before.

"Go lie down in the barracks," Finch ordered. Reese surprisingly obeyed without protest.

It was really more of a dorm room than a barracks, but it didn't sound right to call it that. It was a large room which housed two twin beds, two closets, two very comfortable chairs and some side tables. He'd been meaning to get a larger bed for his cohort to more comfortably rest his 6'2 frame, but he honestly thought it would never be used. The closets had come in handy during their 2 year mission… new shirts for Reese when his became riddled with bullet holes and suits for Finch when his got wet – either via emergency sprinklers or by Bear's bath adventures.

About 10 minutes had passed since he sent Reese to the barracks and all was quiet - mostly. A quick glance into the barracks confirmed that Reese was already asleep and he was well-protected. Bear was sitting at the foot of the bed. He rose and paced nervously for a few moments whenever Reese groaned or coughed, then resumed his post at the foot of the bed without disturbing his patient.

Finch returned to his nest of monitors and started reviewing everything he had on their current number. _The threat is here __**somewhere**__. I need to find and neutralize it now. John's in no condition to fend off any threat._

Finch spent the next 3 hours reexamining every detail of their number's life and still found absolutely nothing. He must've stared at the monitors for quite a bit because he was startled when Reese asked him if he'd had any luck. He hadn't even heard him open the barracks door.

"Mr. Reese, if there is a threat to Miss Ezhno it's either microscopic or invisible because I can't find it." He paused briefly before broaching the next topic. "Speaking of 'microscopic'," he spoke slowly and deliberately, "You need to see a doctor – **today**. I told the staff at my clinic…"

"You have a clinic?" Reese was clearly surprised by this news. His surprise restarted his coughing.

"Yes, I have a clinic."

"Since when? Why didn't you tell me? I don't mind stitching myself up, Finch, but sometimes I could use a little help..."

"It has taken a great deal of… finesse … to get it running. There is a public façade to build and maintain. I had to find the right location and the right staff. I had to ensure they have every piece of medical equipment they desire and now they are ready for the challenge. At least, I hope they're ready." Finch's eyes darted around as if hoping to find his next words floating around the room. He began in a hushed tone. "I should have come up with this plan before even giving you your first number. When your friends at the CIA shot you and you nearly bled to death before …" his voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he resumed with his full voice. "I realized how ill-prepared we were for what is a given considering what we do – a life-threatening injury."

"You did good, Harold. I survived. I got to demonstrate my computer skills and teach you some basic self-defense moves." Every sentence was now punctuated by coughing.

"I remember," Finch said while rolling his eyes.

"And my time at the apartment certainly gave me a new appreciation for yoga." Reese was now grinning widely and Finch couldn't help but chuckle.

"The important thing, John, is that you see a doctor. Since this is a non-emergency, you can use the front door. Every employee knows what to do when you appear. Your cover is that you are a drug rep with Beecher Pharmaceuticals, which explains both your suit and why you get to see the doctor immediately, so to not rile the waiting patients. For emergencies, use the number I programmed into your phone today. It's under '9' – as in '9-1-1.' 24/7. Someone will answer and send the mobile unit to you."

"You bought an ambulance too?"

"No. This is so much more than an ambulance. It's a state-of-the-art Operating Room on wheels. Wait until you see it..."

"I think I'll wait as long as possible – no offense."

Just then Reese noticed a commotion on a couple of the monitors behind Finch. Something was happening in Rachel's office.

"Hey Finch, take a look. Our girl is leaving work very early today," Reese nodded towards the monitors. "Wait a minute… did that guy just wish her luck on her new job? Did we know she was leaving her job?"

Finch's fingers were flying before Reese even finished his question. "No! There's no mention of it in any of her communications – not even with her employment agency. We need to find out who her new employer is. The threat may be lying in wait for her there."

"On my way," Reese said while pulling on his coat.

Reese had some of his color back and sounded better than he had that morning, but he wasn't actually feeling any better. Finch and Bear shared concerned glances as they listened to their friend's coughing until it faded away, leaving an almost eery silence.


	4. The Meet and Greet

Reese caught up with Rachel about a block away from her now former job site. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to get home. She stopped at a few boutiques and a music store. Then she sat in the park for a couple hours. Reese was getting frustrated with her lack of direction. He was cold, wet, and ready for a hot meal and dry clothes. He was just about to call Finch and tag him in for the rest of her meandering non-adventures, when she rose from the park bench and headed in the general direction of her apartment.

Reese was relieved when he was certain she was indeed headed home; yet, he was growing more concerned because the looming threat was still unidentified. Just then, Reese was passed by a man, who didn't look friendly, and appeared to be honing in on Rachel.

Reese's pace quickened – as did the intensity of his cough and the pain in his chest. No more than six feet now separated Reese and Rachel with the suspect between them. Reese willed himself not to cough, and somehow, it worked. When finally within striking distance, the man reached for the strap of her purse and suddenly found himself on the ground. Reese, startled by the strange turn of events, hesitated for a split second. Then, a blinding pain hit him and he doubled over but managed to stay on his feet. The would-be perp recovered quickly and took off. Suddenly, a whack on the back of Reese's left knee sent him to the ground. Everything happened so fast that he was still processing the events when he heard Rachel thank the little old lady for her expert use of her cane.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wren, I can take it from here. You should get back to Princess Pookie before she thinks you've abandoned her. You know how she howls."

Reese absentmindedly wondered if Mrs. Wren and Harold were related.

She turned to Reese and tried to put on her best stern-faced expression.

"Alright, Mister. Who's your partner?"

Reese answered in a voice a little higher than his usual pitch, "I… [cough and wince] don't know him. I thought he was going to take your purse so I [cough]…"

"Oh my God… I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" she exclaimed.

"I'm… eh hum [clearing his throat] okay."

She grabbed Reese's arm and helped him stand up.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. You sure got me." Reese chuckled (and coughed).

"Well, I've seen Miss Congeniality a million times so I know about S.I.N.G."

Reese blinked very slowly, looking so utterly confused, that she kindly explained the reference.

All Reese heard her say was "Sandra Bullock," "beauty pageant," "nose" and "groin." He grimaced and shook his head in disbelief. _I was nearly brought to my knees by a chick-flick_. _If Finch finds out about this, the dog, or Mrs. Wren's cane, I'll NEVER hear the end of it._

"How about I buy you dinner?" she offered without missing a beat.

"Wh – what?" Reese stammered while displaying his deer-in-headlights look.

"You valiantly came to my rescue. The fact that I didn't need rescuing is beside the point. I owe you an apology for bringing you to your knees and there's a great little Mom & Pop diner on the next block. If we hurry, we'll get there before the skies open up again," she motioned to the ever darkening sky above.

A few minutes later they slid into a very comfortable booth and looked out the window just in time to see a flash of lightning and another downpour start.

"Whew! Just made it!" she said. "Good thing too. I don't think you need to be out in the cold rain any longer than necessary. Here's a menu," she said while sliding the menu to him.

"Thanks," he said quietly and between coughs.

"My name's Rachel, by the way," she said while extending her hand.

"Reese," he replied while gently shaking her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Reese, or is it 'Mr. Reese?'"

"Reese," he replied with a smile.

_Good Lord, he could melt a glacier with that smile. _She looked back down at her menu. _Or his gaze… _

"Let me guess – country fried steak and mashed potatoes with the gravy on the side," bellowed the waitress, startling both Reese and Rachel. "Well hello there, Honey," she purred, while carefully studying every inch of Reese, "Where have you been all my life?"

"Everywhere else," he replied curtly without looking up from his menu.

Rachel snickered and replied, "Yes, I'll have my usual, thank you, but my guest may need another moment to decide. Oh, and I'll need a cup of chicken soup to go." Reese, not needing extra time, added his selections and the waitress was on her way. They both started to excuse themselves at the same time, but Rachel told him to go first and she'd guard the coats.

The next hour and a half was filled with a variety of topics of conversation from current events to Grandma's home cooking. She'd forgotten how fun it was to share a meal with someone and so had he. Eventually, the waitress brought his piece of pecan pie and the chicken soup Rachel requested. She'd barely touched her dinner because she was so enjoying the conversation. Reese, on the other hand, practically inhaled both his dinner and dessert.

While waiting for the waitress to ring up the payment, Rachel finally broached the topic she'd been wanting to all through the meal.

"So, Reese, I have no idea what you do for a living, but would you mind if I hazard a guess?"

"Go ahead, but I won't confirm or deny anything," he said, between coughs and sips of coffee.

"With an answer like that, 'politician' is as good as a guess as any…"

Reese chuckled and coughed.

"But I think your business card says, 'Knight in Shining Armor. Call 1-800-LEAP MOA[TS] or go online to .com.'"

Reese couldn't help but laugh, but it quickly turned into a long coughing spell. Rachel studied him carefully. His cough had worsened during dinner. Now it sounded deeper and painful.

"I've had a wonderful time, Reese, but I think you need to go home to get some rest, then get to a doctor tomorrow." She slid out of the booth and reached back for her coat. Suddenly the world started spinning and she nearly fell back into the booth before she caught herself – with Reese's help.

"Are you okay?" Reese asked as he steadied her. "Is it your blood sugar…" Reese said the words before he could stop himself. He pursed his lips and grimaced slightly, just waiting for her to question how he knew she is diabetic.

She nodded and spoke hesitantly, "I assumed I would eat all my dinner when I took my insulin. Now my sugar is too low. I hate to ask, considering your condition, but would you mind walking me home?"

"Already planned to," Reese replied while helping her with her coat. He took her arm, grabbed her soup, and then they headed out into the downpour.

They were both thankful that the walk back to her apartment was a short one, but it took a toll on Rachel. Her hand was shaking so badly she couldn't unlock her door, so he took her keys, unlocked the door, and ushered her inside and onto the couch. He grabbed a soda from her fridge, a glass out of the dish-drainer, and held the glass for her. He continued to do that for her over the next 10 minutes – between his coughing fits.

It took about 30 minutes, but when she finally came to her senses and realized what had happened, she thanked him for sticking around. "What a pair we make," she laughed. "I let my sugar drop too low and make the poor guy with pneumonia take care of me."

"I do not have pneumonia," he stated emphatically (while coughing).

"That would sound a lot more convincing if you hadn't punctuated it with **that cough**," she retorted.

They talked for another hour. When Reese was certain she was okay, he rose from the couch and said, "I'm going to take your advice now that you're fully recovered. It was nice to meet you, Rachel. If you ever need help, call this number," and he handed her a card containing just a number. As she rubbed the number with her thumb, it seemed like she had something she wanted to say, but there was nothing but silence.

As he walked out her door, she said, "Good evening, Sir Knight," and curtsied. "Fair thee well. Oh wait! Here, this is for you," she said while handing him the chicken soup. He smiled and replied with a soft, "Thank you" and left. She closed the door behind him and felts pangs of concern as she listened to his coughing all the way down the hall. _Let him go. Let __**it**__ go. There's nothing you can do to help him. He doesn't need you or your concern_ _and it's too late to ask for his help_. She sighed and moved toward her bedroom. She needed to put this whole experience behind her.

He leaned his head back against the elevator wall and tried to take a deep breath. He couldn't.

"Mr. Reese, I've made an appointment for you at 8:00 AM tomorrow at my clinic – no excuses."

"Finch, you …" was all the startled Reese was able to say before he started a coughing fit that would last for several minutes. Finch hadn't said a word since Reese and Rachel met so it was quite a surprise.

"I've also made other arrangements for surveillance on Rachel tonight, so you can go home. Although perhaps you should come here so I can be sure you go to the doctor tomorrow."

"Alright, Finch. You win. I'll go home." Every inhale was punctuated by coughing and chest pain

"And to the doctor..." Finch said as if leading Reese to finish the sentence with the word "tomorrow."

"Good night, Finch," Reese said as he terminated the conversation with a quick tap of his ear bud. He could almost feel the warmth of his bed enveloping him when a hail of bullets shattered the calm.


	5. Sick and Tired

Reese hit the deck. He held his breath – waiting for his keen senses to kick in; instead, he found himself focusing so hard on not coughing that he wasn't able to do anything else. He did, however, pause to congratulate himself on not spilling the chicken soup when he hit the ground. He rolled himself up into a crouching position and slowly rose, using the hood of the car as support, to assess the situation, but quickly slunk back down. He huffed in annoyance with himself. He was hiding when he should've gone in guns blazing. _If you'd gone in shooting you'd have gotten yourself shot – or worse – gotten an innocent person shot. _"Probably couldn't hit the broad side of a barn right now…" he muttered. It was then he realized he hadn't even drawn his weapon yet – he was still holding the soup. _You are a colossal mess, _he thought as he rolled his eyes.

The screeching of tires signaled that it was safe to look and he caught a glimpse of a taxi minivan. Just then, Finch called him with info on a silent alarm that had been triggered nearby.

"Thank you, Finch. The hail of gunfire I just ducked was far from silent."

"Are you alright, Mr. Reese?" Finch asked. He grew more anxious for the answer the longer he had to wait for Reese to stop coughing. He was just about to jump out of his chair when he received Reese's weak reply that he was unscathed.

Despite his very brief look, Reese managed to determine there were three well-armed gunmen and a driver, so he gave Finch the details. As he headed down to the store to see what other information he could gather Finch asked, "Why a taxi? A minivan even? Not your usual getaway vehicle, is it?"

"It works rather well in New York City, Finch. No one gives a second thought to a taxi. A team can easily approach their target without raising an alarm and can just as easily blend into the traffic when making their getaway."

Twenty minutes later the area was swarming with police and spectators. Reese's stealth mode was malfunctioning thanks to his cough, so he couldn't get close enough to overhear anything the officers were saying. He did manage to learn that no one was hurt in the robbery which was shocking considering the number of bullets fired. He was mulling that over when he felt a tug on his arm and turned to see Rachel.

"What are you still doing here? You should be home – resting - in your nice warm bed."

"I had to see what all the commotion was about," Reese said sheepishly and with a cough. "Look, I'm drinking my soup." Reese grinned weakly as he brought the cup up to his lips for another sip.

Rachel couldn't be upset with that grin for long, but she was worried about him. When he turned back to look at the crime scene and appeared to lose his balance for just a moment, she grabbed his arm.

"That's it. You're coming with me." He started to protest but wasn't able to stop coughing long enough to make an effective argument.

She got Reese into her apartment and onto the couch. She left the room for a moment and returned with a thermometer she was wiping with an alcohol swab. After wiping off the alcohol with a Kleenex, she told him to open wide.

"I don't think that's nec…" and in went the thermometer. He tried to give her a disapproving look, but he ended up looking more defeated than disapproving.

"I never let a good opportunity pass me by," she said with a devilish smile.

He managed to hold off the cough by taking short breaths. She sat down beside him and put her ear to his chest. She frowned as she sat back and waited. The thermometer beeped so she grabbed it, read it, and shook her head slowly. Reese relaxed into the couch as she got up to make a phone call. He wasn't paying any attention to her conversation as she paced the length of the couch.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before she said, "Let's go."

Reese gave her a puzzled look.

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Reese. A cab is on the way."

"Mr. Reese, don't let her take you to the hospital!" Finch loudly exclaimed in Reese's ear.

"Ow!" Reese winced and grabbed his ear and practically slid off the couch.

"What's wrong?" Rachel cried as she knelt down in front of him.

"Someone just screamed at me," Reese replied.

"My God your fever is so high you're hallucinating," Rachel said while putting her hand to Reese's forehead.

"Sorry," was all that Finch was able to say before Reese discreetly pulled his earpiece out and placed it in his inside jacket pocket. Finch jumped up from his perch and hurried towards his car. He couldn't let Reese stay at a hospital. It was too risky. His mind was furiously running scenarios for how to get Reese out of the situation Rachel was about to put him in.

There was a bench in the vestibule so Rachel parked Reese on it while she waited in the rain for the cab. She opened the cab door and spoke briefly to the driver, then went back and got Reese. It took some effort to fold him into the back seat without hitting his head. She shut the door and went around to the other side to get in. It seemed easier than trying to scoot him over any farther. As the cab lurched forward, she noticed Reese was shivering. She maneuvered out of her coat, reached around his shoulders and pulled him toward her so his head rested on her shoulder. She threw her coat around him to cover him completely. Reese grabbed its collar and pulled it up to his chin. Within minutes, he couldn't hold himself up any longer and he laid his head in Rachel's lap. She was very worried. She'd never seen anyone get so sick so fast.

Staring at the stack of paperwork on the clipboard, Rachel quickly realized she hadn't thought this through. She had no idea what Reese's full name was let alone where he lived or what he might be allergic to. Reese seemed to be napping between his coughing fits, so she didn't want to disturb him. She filled out the paperwork using her information, but did ask Reese if he had any allergies. She informed him of his new familial relationship too, just so she could keep tabs on him, "Congratulations! You have a new sister."

A couple hours later Reese's cough had lessened and his breathing seemed more relaxed. He and Rachel were watching an episode of "House Hunters: International – Timbuktu" while awaiting his test results, although he was drifting in and out of sleep thanks to the medications dripping from the IV.

"That looks like an interesting place to visit," Rachel said.

"It isn't," whispered Reese.

She looked at him incredulously. "You've been to Timbuktu?" He just nodded in reply. Her curiosity was peaked, but it would have wait because the doctor walked in with the test results and x-rays.

"You, sir, have bacterial pneumonia," the doctor stated. "It's a good thing you came in when you did."

She gave Reese the "I TOLD you so" look, and he just blinked innocently and shrugged.

The doctor explained the severity of Reese's condition and what could happen if it worsened, but Reese refused to be admitted. Rachel listened carefully to the doctor's orders and assured him that they would be followed. After the doctor left the room, she pleaded with Reese to reconsider and at least spend the night in the hospital, but he refused.

Defeated, she plopped back into her chair and stared at the next House Hunters episode. About 30 minutes later the nurse came back in the room to remove the IV and have release papers signed. She informed them that the prescriptions would be waiting for them at the hospital pharmacy and that an orderly would be there in a few minutes to take them to the pharmacy and then to registration to complete the rest of the discharge paperwork. _In other words, 'pay the bill' _Rachel thought.

Rachel retrieved Reese's clothes and helped him out of the bed. She turned and faced the opposite direction while he got dressed, but was sure to stay within arm's reach. Reese appreciated her efforts, especially when he needed her shoulder to keep from falling over, but made it clear he would not be wheeled out of the hospital. Less than 10 minutes later, the orderly appeared and ushered Reese into the wheelchair. She was relieved and rather surprised that Reese gave up his protest of the wheelchair ride so quickly. On the way out, Rachel grabbed the hospital gown and stuffed it in her purse. She thought might come in handy once she got Reese home.

The pharmacy had the prescriptions ready and there was no charge for them. Rachel thought it was odd but didn't argue the point. She was shocked to find out that Reese's bill had already been paid in full when they went to sign out.

"Do you have a guardian angel, Reese?" she inquired.

"More like a wizard," he replied with a sly grin.

"Of course, sir knight!" she said with a bow. She was amazed that he could joke given his condition. _I'm surprised he remembers._

Rachel followed as the orderly wheeled Reese outside. The orderly seemed to struggle to help Reese out of the wheelchair and wasn't very skilled at assisting someone into a cab. Rachel winced when he banged Reese's head into the frame. She could've sworn she heard Reese growl at the orderly but shrugged it off as just her imagination.

"Feel better, sir" the orderly said as he turned and quickly headed back into the hospital.

"I wonder if he finds it difficult to do his job sometimes with that limp? Or the neck thing? Did you notice he can't turn his head?"

"Yes, I noticed," Reese said quietly while rubbing his head, as the cab pulled out and headed back to Rachel's apartment. He was already plotting how he was going to get Finch back for banging his head into the cab.


	6. A Very Bear Interlude

Finch sat in his custom chair with only the gentle glow of five monitors lighting his face. He stared at each one intently, every once in a while making a quiet "huff" about something he saw or didn't see. After 30 minutes, he leaned back, let out a big sigh, and finally stopped rubbing his head. Bear took this opportunity to deliver his leash to Finch's lap. It was the most polite way to tell Finch that it was time to visit a fire hydrant.

Bear was already dreaming about his favorite hydrant when Finch put the leash next to the keyboard and started fiddling with the contrast on the images of Reese's lungs. Bear couldn't believe his eyes and took decisive action - he walked back over to his bed with his head hanging down, letting out a little whimper or whine with every step, and plopped down. He pushed his muzzle into the side so that his eyes, displaying his very best sad-puppy look, just barely cleared the top of the bed and then he let out one huge sigh.

"Bear! What's the matter with you? I'm trying to…" Finch's voice trailed off as he realized Bear hadn't been out for over 12 hours. He felt even worse when he realized it'd been over 18 hours since Bear had had a meal. "I'm sorry, Bear. Let's go get some fresh air," Finch said as he grabbed the leash and headed to the door. Finch arrived at the elevator door and started to reach for the button when the door opened. It was empty until Bear walked right in. The brief ride down was punctuated by Finch looking at Bear and calculating the odds that Bear hit the elevator call button, and Bear looking right back at him, innocently blinking those sad eyes and licking his chops to hide his mischievous grin.

Bear really enjoyed taking his human for a walk several times a day. He loved the attention that was lavished on him and was always pleased when his human displayed great patience with the people. But tonight was different. There were very few people out and about and they all seemed to be in a hurry – except his human – who needed a lot more pulling along than usual.

Bear knew his walk was over when one of the payphones rang. _Ooh – now I'm hungry. Wonder why that always happens…_

All the way back to the library, it was Finch leading the charge with Bear bringing up the rear. They were both panting by the time they reached their respective perches.

It didn't take long for Finch to realize he wasn't looking at a social security number. He replayed the voice over and over and was certain he hadn't missed any cues, so he started to look for anything that matched that sequence.

Bear, having caught his breath, was now ready for food, so he took his dish and placed it in front of Finch.

"Alright, Bear. You've been most patient today. Let's get you a snack to hold you over until breakfast."

As Finch grabbed the bowl and started to stand up, he saw the number sequence. He glanced back at his monitor to make sure – even though he didn't need to. He was, after all, quite the numbers man. But it just didn't make sense. Why would The Machine spit out Bear's dog license number?


	7. Putting Reese to Bed

Rachel opened the door and Reese started to exit the cab. He felt something on the top of his head and immediately sank back down to the seat.

"It's okay, Reese. It's just my hand. I don't want you banging your head again and getting a concussion. There's no wheelchair here and I can't carry you."

Despite the coughing and the pain, Reese couldn't help himself and he cracked a smile as he rose from the cab and Rachel's hand fell away when he was clear. "For the record, **I **didn't bang my head getting into the cab. The orderly did that for me."

"I gathered that when you growled at him, Reese." Just the memory of that sound gave her chills. She shuddered.

"Oh, you heard that," Reese stated rather sheepishly.

"Heard what?" she asked absentmindedly.

Reese stopped and gave her a quizzical look. Rachel took another step with his arm and realized that Reese hadn't taken that last step with her. She turned back, noted his quizzical look, and then it dawned on her that she was lost in that memory and walking entirely too fast for Reese to comfortably keep up. Any faster than a snail's pace sent him into a coughing fit that was so obviously painful it made Rachel wince.

Once back in her apartment, she sat Reese down on the couch and went to work. First order of business was liquids – and plently of them.

"Here you go," she said as she handed him a bottle of water. "I'm heating up some chicken broth for you too. It'll take a few minutes to get good and hot. If you'd like, I could add some diced chicken to it or even thicken it up for…"

"The broth will be just fine for tonight… or I should say 'this morning.'"

She disappeared back into the kitchen only to reappear a three minutes later with a piping hot cup of broth. After making sure he didn't want anything else with it, she told him to stay put while she fixed up the bed for him.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Reese said.

"Like hell you will! The Girl Scouts will take away all my badges if I put a sick person on my couch. Besides that, you won't **fit** on my couch."

Reese started to protest but instead burst into another coughing spell.

"See! That's what happens when you try to launch a futile protest. Now, drink your broth. Don't forget to take your antibiotics too. You have to wait to take one of the painkillers though."

Once she'd closed the bedroom door, Reese took the opportunity to retrieve his weapon from under the couch. He quickly tucked it away without checking it over because he didn't know how long she'd be gone.

Rachel stood in the middle of her bedroom in a state of panic. She was most unprepared for any kind of visitor, let alone a man who needed to sleep in her bed. She ran around picking up all the clothes, threw them into a laundry basket, and put them in the closet. Next, she went to the dresser to get clean sheets for the bed and was horrified at her option. _Dear God that'll never work! I can't put Reese in a bed with pink sheets! _She thought about for a moment. _Ah ha! The black set in the closet! Who cares if they're too big? They aren't pink!_

She quickly made the bed and fluffed the pillows. She grabbed the pink sheets for her use on the couch and returned to the living room.

Reese complimented her chicken broth as he handed her the empty cup. She started to tell him why it was so good but realized that was a conversation for later – if ever.

"Alright Reese, let's get you to bed. You have to be beyond exhausted at this point." She knew he was because she herself passed exhaustion before they'd even left the hospital.

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and started to take his shoes off.

"I can do that myself, Rachel."

"I know you **can**, Reese, but I'm not going to let you. Um, silly question, but do you sleep with socks on?"

"No." Reese answered through a cough.

She removed his socks and laid them across his shoes. Reese moved farther into the bed and brought his feet up.

"Whoa, Mister, you are not sleeping in your suit!"

Rachel disappeared for a moment and returned with the hospital gown. "I thought this might come in handy so I snatched it."

She helped Reese out of his shirt and undershirt and into the gown. He turned to sit sideways so she could tie the back of the gown together.

"Let me know when you're covered," she said as she turned her back to him so he could finish undressing.

"Covered." That was all Reese could even think to say. This was, after all, the second time she'd turned her back to allow him some privacy. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to wonder if she was immune to his charm.

"Now that you're settled, let me give you the scoop. Here's an emergency lamp if you need a light. This will be easier for you to reach than my regular lamp," she explained as she placed it on the nightstand. "I'll go get your medicines and another bottle of water for you to have handy."

When she reappeared, she had a thermometer with her too.

"I forgot I had this thermometer. Now I don't have to wonder if the hot chicken broth inflates the numbers," she said as she rolled it across his forehead. She didn't like the number. "Feed a cold. Starve a fever. What the hell do you do for pneumonia?" she muttered.

"You drown it," Reese deadpanned as he looked at the three bottles of water she had brought in.

"Huh?"

Reese smiled and nodded towards the bottles. Rachel started laughing.

"I'm trying to make sure you don't have to get up to get anything you may need in the next few hours. One bottle is completely frozen. One is has bits of ice floating around in it. The last one is just from the refrigerator, which is why it's the closest to you."

"Well, that confirms it. You really were a Girl Scout."

"You doubted me?" she feigned being offended. "Good night, Reese," she said as she gathered up his clothes. She didn't wait for him to respond before turning out the light and pulling the door closed because he was already asleep… or so she thought.

_I thought she'd never leave,_ Reese thought as he pulled his gun out from under one of the pillows and checked every inch of it. He had, after all, left it under her couch for a few hours while they journeyed to the hospital. He was certain it had dust in places it shouldn't, but he didn't have anything to use to clean it at the moment so a quick check that all the bullets were where they should be and the safety was still engaged would have to do for now. Luckily, Rachel was a fan of feather pillows but not being poked by quills, so her three layers of pillow protectors gave Reese a really good hiding place. _I sure as hell don't have any place else to hide it. She took my trousers. And my belt, socks…_ And then he was snoring.

Rachel made her couch-bed and lamented not grabbing a pillow for herself. She knew she wasn't going to sleep much despite being exhausted. She was in the middle of the adventure of her lifetime and she had to write it down. She spent the next hour detailing her adventure with Reese and the following 30 minutes reviewing the instructions the doctor gave her. She was supposed to take Reese's temperature every couple hours, but she couldn't bring herself to risk waking him.

She puttered around doing menial tasks like cleaning the mug that held the chicken broth and loading more water bottles into the refrigerator and freezer. She was just about to lie down when she realized she had to run some very important errands.

She rummaged through some boxes and managed to find three sturdy hangers – one even had the clips she needed. She put Reese's suit and dress shirt on the hangers, put his socks in a little brown paper bag and clipped it with the trousers. She checked the size of the undershirt and trousers. She also made one final check on Reese before she headed out.

All the way to 24-hour dry cleaners she was kicking herself for being so chivalrous while Reese was undressing. She had no idea if he preferred boxers or briefs! She glanced in the mirror when she entered the cleaners and discovered she was 20 shades of red. _Good grief, Rach. Only you could embarrass yourself that badly just *thinking* about boxers or briefs. _She asked the attendant for help determining the appropriate size of boxers and got a lesson in menswear.

Two hours later Rachel stumbled into her apartment with three full shopping bags. She collapsed on the couch, closed her eyes, then jumped up and raced to the bedroom. Reese was in distress.

"Reese!" she cried as she helped him sit up. He was coughing so hard he couldn't take in even a half-breath before the coughing consumed him again. She was scared he was going to pass out so she did the only thing she could think of – knowing it probably wasn't the right thing to do – she hit him in the back with the heel of her hand. Reese took in a deep breath, said "Ow," and then continued coughing.

"I'm sorry if that hurt, but I knew I needed to hit your ribs." Reese started turning towards her, but she put her hands on his shoulders to stop him. "Don't ask."

When Reese was able to breathe between coughs again, she asked him what had set him off.

"I'm not sure what happened. Suddenly I was choking and couldn't catch my breath."

"How many pillows were you using?" she inquired.

"None."

"Well, let's try using a pillow or two this time," she said as she started gathering up the pillows she had strewn across the bed. Reese grabbed the gun-concealing pillow before she did and used it as the base of the pillow-pile she was building for him.

"Too much?" she asked when Reese raised his eyebrows and gave her a funny look.

"Oh no. I like to sleep sitting at a 90 degree angle."

"Just for that, **you** take off the pillows you don't want and I'm going to take your temperature." She stuck her tongue out at him and hopped up from the bed, but not before he whacked her on the back of the head with a pillow. "Mister, when you can breathe normally again, it is so on!"

She sat on the side of the bed, with her brow furrowed, looking at the thermometer.

"So what's the verdict, Doc?"

"No change, Reese. You're still a very sick man."

"Wonder what gave that away?" he said between coughs.

"I brought you something that might help." She presented an amber bottle to him. "Inhale." He did so, reluctantly at first. "It's Eucalyptus oil. It helps to inhale directly, but it also great in an oil burner." She hopped up and left the room for a moment. When she came back, she had matches, a tealight candle and an oil burner. She poured the oil in the well and put the stopper back in the bottle. "It'll be right here when you need it, Reese," she said as she placed it in the drawer of the nightstand. "I'm running out of room on the top!"

She made him take another round of medication (it was time) and gently tucked him in. "Try to get some more sleep, Reese. You need all the rest you can get. Lucky for you, I have blackout curtains," she said as she rose from the bed. Reese grabbed her wrist which made her jump. She turned back to ask him what he needed, but he just said, "Thank you." She smiled and walked away with her head hanging down. She closed the door behind her. She stood there with her back to the door for a moment, holding her wrist where he'd grabbed it. She shuddered. She rubbed her arms as if she were chilled. _Am I doing the right thing? Should I have tried harder to get him to stay in the hospital? Am I just being selfish – wanting to feel useful for once in my life? _

She gave up on the argument with herself and lay down on the couch. The coughing only woke her a few times over the next 4 hours, so she didn't feel too out of sorts when she finally rolled off the couch to start her day. She didn't look forward to waking her sleeping knight, but it was time for another dose of his meds and a temperature check. The only change from the previous round was that Reese didn't protest. He had already fallen back to sleep by the time Rachel was done switching out the water bottles so she tiptoed out of the room and closed the door with a barely audible "click."


	8. A Resting Reese

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: My apologies for the long delay in posting a new chapter; however, my mother's multiple medical emergencies have been my primary focus the last 7 weeks. I will also be posting updates to earlier chapters in the coming weeks, so please bear with me.  
_

* * *

Bear had been cooped up for over a day now and he was ready for some action. Unfortunately, his human who liked to rough-house was nowhere to be found, and his loquacious human was eerily quiet as he paced around his desk. Bear was pacing in his own way – bouncing back and forth on his two front paws in anticipation. The almost shrill bark he let out made Finch stop in his tracks.

"What is it, Bear?" Finch walked over and bent over to pet him when he realized he was the cause of the distress. He had been pacing with his hands behind his back and holding Bear's ball. "I'm sorry Bear. I didn't mean to torment you," he said as he threw the ball across the room and Bear gave chase in a flash.

He played fetch with Bear for a time. Luckily, it was easy for him to throw the ball without losing his train of thought, plus it always brought a smile to his face. Finch was pretty sure that Bear was smiling at the end of every game of fetch too.

_What would cause the Machine to send me Bear's number? It's programmed to deliver social security numbers not dog license numbers. Then again, it could be programmed for just about anything now that it's free from its original prison…_ A paw on his knee snapped him back to the task at hand. "Alright Bear, this is the last toss." Finch raised his arm to throw and stopped cold.

Looking down at Bear with raised eyebrows he asked, "Bear, have you been moonlighting with Shaw?"

Bear tilted his head and, to Finch, it looked like he furrowed his brow just like Reese when someone spouted a ridiculous theory.

_Harold, get a grip. This is serious. Your best friend is desperately ill and your next best friend is now in danger._ Still, an even deeper voice in his head added that his next best friend could be the source of an unknown danger. After all, he didn't know anything about Bear's history except what Reese told him about the white supremacists getting him from a military guy who couldn't pay what he owed them.

Finch finally tossed the ball and then turned to his monitors. He was all alone with two completely unrelated numbers to investigate. _What a lousy time for Carter to take a vacation and leave Fusco with their combined caseloads, _he mused. Although not known to be a procrastinator, Finch, having exhausted all avenues concerning Rachel and being flabbergasted by the task of investigating Bear, decided to turn on the live feed to check on Reese.

Reese seemed to be resting comfortably on his plethora of pillows. The three water bottles were now down to one, which meant Reese was keeping himself hydrated. Finch smiled softly and chuckled a bit_. _Now confident that Reese was in good hands **and** following doctor's orders, he was just about to turn off the Reese-cam when Rachel tiptoed into the room. Finch admired how attentive to she was to Reese's every need and how well she followed the doctor's instructions – no matter how much Reese protested. He watched as Rachel inched closer to the bed taking a peek at Reese and then backing away. When she didn't immediately leave the room, a flicker of apprehension kept Finch's gaze on his monitors. He decided his investigation into Bear's background could wait.

Rachel stood at the end of the bed and surveyed the room. She started pointing at shelves as if she were counting something. She took what looked like folded boxes out of a dresser drawer and took them to the living room. She quickly returned and proceeded to tiptoe around the room gathering knick-knacks from shelves and taking them into the living room. Then she fluffed her floor pillows in what Finch assumed was a reading nook and shifted some items in her closet.

At this point, Finch decided Reese was safe from being carried into the living room or fluffed, so he turned off Reese-cam and began his investigation into Bear's background.

Rachel started to pull a couple of storage bins out of her closet, which unfortunately, she managed to drop on her foot. She let out a yelp and slapped her hand over her mouth. She looked over her shoulder to see if she'd awakened Reese with her shenanigans, but Reese just mumbled something, coughed, and snuggled back down into his pillow. Rachel sighed in relief and continued with her task. Picking up just the top tote, she turned to take it to the living room and fell onto the bed. Reese sat straight up and reached for his gun, but he quickly realized where he was and relaxed. He was, however, wondering why Rachel was in bed with him. Rachel started apologizing but was impossible to understand through her laughter. After a few moments, Reese caught the giggles too, but they quickly gave way to a coughing spell. Rachel, wiping away tears, finally explained.

"I was so happy that I didn't wake you when I dropped the totes on my foot that I forgot to get the bottom one OFF my foot. So when I turned to take the top one out to the living room, I was able to move my foot out from under it since it was lighter, but my sock got caught between the tote and the closet track and I had nowhere to go but down!" She grabbed the back of her knee and leaned back on the bed to show her sockless foot to Reese. He shook his head and smiled. "Luckily the bed was here to break my fall… um… I'm just sorry you were caught in my downfall," her voice tapered off a bit and she hung her head. Reese, concerned about how quickly her mood changed, tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Hey, it would take a lot more than your falling on me to hurt me." Rachel, grinning slightly, said, "Thanks, Reese. I'm glad I didn't hurt you." Her mood shifted back again and she gleefully stated, "Now that you're awake, it's time to take your temperature and give you the next round of meds." Reese rolled his eyes, fell back onto his pillow, and said, "Alright doc, whatever you say. I'm not going to protest anymore." "Yeah, right," Rachel said sarcastically, "**that'll **be the day." She put her sock back on her foot, grabbed the tote, and limped out of the room. She returned a couple minutes later with the box of medical supplies and tools.

"Have you ever thought about getting an official medical kit?"

"Oh yes. I'd love to have one like they had on Emergency! all those years ago. I always wanted to be a paramedic just like Johnny and Roy," Rachel said very enthusiastically.

"Really? I had **no** idea," Reese deadpanned.

Completely ignoring his sarcasm, Rachel continued her trip down memory lane.

"Did you ever watch the show? It was fantastic!"

"Yes, I did," Reese replied. "I always wanted to be the lead doctor… or the guy driving the fire truck… or …."

"Why the lead doctor?" Rachel interrupted.

"Because he got the hot nurse," Reese replied with a wide grin and a wink.

Rachel just rolled her eyes and ran the thermometer across his forehead.

"I know that look. My temp is up," Reese said.

"Yes, it is," she replied while handing him his meds and the last bottle of water, which he drained.

Without speaking, she put everything back in the medical box, grabbed the three empty water bottles, and exited the room. She returned a minute later and lined up three fresh water bottles – again exiting without a word. Reese was a little worried by her silence, but a coughing spell kept him from questioning her.

Meanwhile, Finch was having difficulty getting the right information from Bear's license. He was sure he typed it correctly the first two times, but just in case, this time he did it "hunt and peck" style - saying the number while hitting it with his index finger. He got the same result. He raised a brow and turned to look at Bear.

_He's still a Belgian Malinois. He's still breathing. So why is he wearing the license of a dead German Shepard?_

Finch continued reading the file he found and was rather disturbed by what he discovered. The dog's name was Thor and he was a decorated police dog. He disappeared one night from his home and a week later his mutilated body was discovered. He had been ripped to shreds by another dog. The mere thought sent chills down Finch's spine. Digging a little further,he found that two weeks prior to Thor's death a Pit Bull had also been mauled to death, but the evidence in that case pointed to a pack of dogs having committed the crime.

_Just because Bear's previous name was "Butcher" doesn't mean he was 's a highly trained military dog. He wouldn't do something like this - unless he was forced..._

Finch began digging again, but stopped abruptly when he saw breaking news flash across his screen. There had been another robbery involving a tremendous amount a gunfire but no casualties. It was the next line that actually scared him - it was the ninth robbery of this kind in less than 24 hours.

_Why does all hell break loose the minute the tall guy in a suit catches pneumonia? Were they just waiting for Reese to take a sick day or two? _For a moment, he wondered if the Machine was playing both sides, but he quickly dismissed the idea. _How am **I **going to stop these heavily armed bandits?_

_"_Oh I hope you're on the mend, Mr. Reese. I really need you now," Finch said with just a hint of desperation in his voice.


End file.
